


Vegetarian

by Zhie



Series: Raising Cain In Valinor Once Again [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Being Lost, Cultural Differences, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Sailing To Valinor, The Avari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Whenever anyone asks Erestor how he ended up in Rivendell, he defers to Glorfindel.  There is more than the stories to this series - see https://raisingcain.weebly.com/ for more fun.
Relationships: Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Series: Raising Cain In Valinor Once Again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594654
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33
Collections: 2020 My Slashy Valentine





	Vegetarian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaisingCaiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/gifts).



Erestor was a vegetarian. 

He was not always a vegetarian. It was actually quite unusual. It was not unusual for Valinor; it was estimated that one in every three people living in Valinor were vegetarians, and half of those who were not had a preference for food that did not contain meat. It was unusual because Erestor did not hail from Valinor, nor did he have anyone in his family who did. He was an Avarin Elf, through and through, with one other marked exception--he lived in Valinor now.

It was quite unexpected how it had happened -- at least, in his opinion. He, like the others who intended to stay in Middle-earth, had seen to aiding others with intentions to travel. As chief adviser, he saw to helping Elrond, who was somewhat distant in the packing of things. Many were the questions Elrond asked Erestor, and the requests he made for Erestor to check in on his daughter and his yet unborn grandchildren, and their children, and the generations after that. There were many letters written to his sons, too, and Erestor looked over all of them and organized them for Elrond, and made sure they were kept safe to be opened at later dates.

Some days, Elrond would call off the packing altogether and sit in his apothecary rearranging bottles on the shelves or warming himself in the Hall of Fire, which seemed empty now with so many seeing to one task or another. On these days, Erestor would return to his usual tasks. For him, nothing seemed to change all that much. Of course, he would have a new supervisor (either Elladan or Elrohir, of course, or perhaps both), but his home would be the same, his rooms the same, his life, nearly the same. 

Erestor never went into battle, though he was trained to be a warrior. That had happened when he still lived with the Avarin tribe he was born into. Sometimes he wondered about the tribe--did they wonder about him? 

His appearance easily told others he was not a Noldo or a Sinda, or even a Silvan Elf. “Why did you leave your people?” he had been asked more than once. 

“Glorfindel. He can tell you the story,” Erestor would answer. Erestor was not much for storytelling and fanciful things. It was part of what made him such an extraordinary adviser. His mind did not wander often.

And then Glorfindel would step in and tell the tale, with all the flourish he could muster, even on days when he had dragged himself in soaked from a week-long patrol in the rain. The story started in the rain, as it so happened, late on an autumn afternoon. There Glorfindel was, nearing the end of patrol, when a pack of wargs encountered him. He fought them off in mounted combat, but the battle alerted some nearby orcs, and soon he was fighting with them while on horseback as well, leading them away from the paths that would take one to the valley. It was dusk when the battle with the orcs began, and dark when the last orc was dead. This was early in the time of Glorfindel’s return, and he was not yet accustomed to the lands. He not only managed to lead the orcs away from Rivendell, he turned himself around in the process. 

As luck would have it, he came upon a stronghold of the Avarin tribe. Only then, when these dark Elves, shorter and wary of him gave each other worried looks did he notice that both he and his horse were injured. He tried to speak with them, but his words only received unwelcome looks. He became dizzy and slid down from his mount to keep from falling, and clung to the saddle at he observed his surroundings. 

Then, someone with bright red and gold feathers in his hair emerged from one of the tents. He was just a little taller than the others around him. He looked rather young despite having his hair styled as those who were obviously adults had theirs, and seemed more ready to listen--or to try. Some of the words Glorfindel spoke appeared to make sense to the Elf standing in front of him. He looked up with eyes that were almost black and raised a hand to touch the nose of the horse, still panting from battle. When the elf spoke, Glorfindel realized how his language was more similar to Quenya than Sindarin, and in broken speech, they communicated. (Later, Glorfindel would learn it was not Avarin, as he thought it might be, but a twisted version of Quenya the Avari learned and passed down generations to use as a secret language when needed.) Glorfindel made it known he was lost and injured, and the Elf--he was called Irstë--took him into his tent to clean and dress his wounds while someone else saw to the horse.

The deep wounds suffered by the horse in addition to the lack of knowledge the tribe had in large animal care meant that the horse was nearly dead come morning. Glorfindel assessed the situation and made the fateful decision. Without a mount to carry him back, and facing scrutiny from members of the tribe for killing his own horse, he made the decision to set out for Rivendell as best he could on his own. As he stumbled through the forest back the way he (believed) he came, he heard something behind him. He turned, on his guard, and lowered his sword when he saw Irstë trailing him. 

“Still you have bad wounds,” was what Glorfindel discerned him saying. “Travel badly for you.”

“I can manage,” Glorfindel said, though his sword seemed heavier than it should be, and he sheathed it with difficulty. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”

Once again, Glorfindel set forth, but he tripped and did not recover before he hit the ground.

Irstë came to his side immediately. “Dumb stupid fool man-child,” he muttered, and the way he said it in such an even and yet pitying tone made Glorfindel laugh.

Three more Avarin Elves emerged from the trees, and they came to where Irstë sat on the damp ground with Glorfindel. At once, discussion occurred, low and solemn, and serious, from the way Irstë furrowed his brow. He nodded to several things said to him, and then, almost as soon as they had arrived, they were gone.

“What was all that about?” asked Glorfindel as he was helped to his feet.

“They move camp. Cannot move dead horse. Coyotes will come; must safe stay elsewhere. May be gone if I come back.”

Yet, this development was not to be a problem for Irstë, who would be named Erestor during their journey by Glorfindel on account of mispronouncing his name, for Erestor did not come back as he had originally intended. He brought Glorfindel to Rivendell, was lauded as a hero, and was offered shelter and food in the House of Elrond. Many scholars delighted in having a ‘real live Avari’ in the realm, and for some time, he was both guest and artifact. The longer he remained, the more he integrated himself into the culture of the Valley. Very soon after his return, Erestor began to wear the same clothing as the Noldorin Elves there. He learned the languages of the land, from Quenya to Westron, and delighted in the concept of writing. A year after he was there, he started to grow out his hair and wore less and less feathers, beads, and shells in it. Gone was the paint from his face and limbs by the time Elladan and Elrohir were born, and by Arwen’s birth, he was as regal and royal as the elite of the household. He was less and less of interest to others, and eventually, he was just a member of the household with a past forgotten by all save one.

Glorfindel did intend to sail; it was always his plan. In fact, it was less Glorfindel’s plan and more the plan of the Valar, for it was a stipulation he was held to when he was allowed passage to Middle-earth a second time. Erestor was fully aware of this, and had long accepted that he would be parted from his long-time friend when peace came to Middle-earth. With a day off from his duties to help Elrond, Erestor decided to check on his friend.

What he found was a disaster. On the breakfast table there was a stack of bowls and plates. Clearly, Glorfindel had taken meals into the room, but it was doubtful anything had been taken out in some time. There were piles of clothing semi-sorted, and piles of other things around the room, including on the parts of the bed that Glorfindel was not occupying. “Have you done any packing at all over the last three months?” asked Erestor as he looked around at the room. Everything appeared out of place, and the open chest near the door was empty. “Or are you intending to leave all of this behind for the maid to deal with?”

Glorfindel was lying on the bed. Fully dressed, atop the coverlet, he stared up at the ceiling. “I am in mourning,” he bemoaned.

“What has happened to put you in this state?” asked Erestor. “Or, do you simply mean, your eventual departure.”

“Not the departure from this--the departure from one I dearly and deeply love.”

Erestor raised a brow. Never had Glorfindel spoken to him of love or romance, and as his best friend, he thought he ought to know about this. “Are you certain they are staying here?”

“Undoubtedly; it has been the plan since the beginning. How cruel, it seems, that now, as all is at peace in the world, I should be sundered from them!” 

There were times when Glorfindel could be melodramatic. Telling tales, like the one of the balrog, or refusing to eat broccoli were both in that category. This seemed similar, and yet, there was something different. Erestor determined which chair had the least items on it, tipped it so that they plopped onto a clothing pile, and dragged the chair over to the bedside. “Are you exaggerating, or is this something truly affecting you?” asked Erestor as he sat down on the chair.

“If it seems my words are dramatic, tis only because my heart is heavy and I know not how to tell them how important it is for me to have them with me in Valinor,” said Glorfindel. “They are more a part of my life than I realized. I did not think until the war ended what separation would mean, and now that I think of it, every day, every hour, every minute, I know how lost I shall be without them!”

Erestor mulled over the statements. “You continue to use ‘they’, and I am going to deduce that the person whom you speak of is not a lady, for most of them are traveling to Valinor, and are married, and I should think you would say ‘she’ if that was what you mean. But I detect you are unsure of my feelings should I know that you have taken an interest in another man,” said Erestor carefully.

“I do not know how the Avari feel about that sort of relationship.”

“I am not the Avari; I am Erestor, and I have my own opinions,” said Erestor. He noted his words had bite to them; he was jealous, he noted. He was upset to think that here Glorfindel was, pining for someone, when the two of them had spent so much time together over the years, and here he was, right here, had Glorfindel wished a male companion all this time. Erestor rubbed his nose as he thought about who it might be. Lindir? Gildor Inglorion? No, they were both traveling to Valinor. Perhaps one of Elrond’s sons--or, could it be someone outside of Imladris? 

“You are awfully quiet,” said Glorfindel.

“Beg your pardon, your lordship,” answered Erestor, voice still harsh. 

Glorfindel sat up abruptly. “I have offended you,” he sorrowfully said.

“No. Well, yes!” Erestor stood up and began to pace. “How dare you!” he scolded, and Glorfindel cringed. “Weeks away from your departure, and now you tell me you have been pining for someone all this time, and here I am, forced to stay here and live in the same house with them? This is cruel,” Erestor opined, wagging a finger at a confused-looking Noldo. “I asked you once if you would ever consider a relationship with another man, and you laughed it off as the sort of thing one reads about in worn novelettes found in ladies’ parlors!” 

“Erestor, we were in the middle of the Hall of Fire! I have a reputation to maintain--and not everyone accepts those sorts of--look, there is this ‘Laws and Customs’ thing, and--”

“I have read that rubbish, thank you! You could have come to me privately about it--I suppose not, though. How could you ever be attracted to me,” muttered Erestor as he headed for the door. “I am short, I am dark-skinned, and all I have done is masked myself with the appearance of a Noldo to try to blend in when there was never a way I could do it with a face like this! No high Elf would ever want to be intimate with someone like me!”

Glorfindel reached the door first, blocking the path. “Erestor, you have it all wrong!”

“Have I?” Erestor crossed his arms over his chest. “You are a homosexual, and you are in love with someone in this house. Are those statements untrue?”

Glorfindel blushed. “They are both very accurate.”

“Then what am I wrong about?” Erestor was of a mind to punch his ‘friend’ and leave.

“It is not just someone in this house, Erestor.” Glorfindel swallowed hard. “The someone is you.”

Erestor blinked. Then he recovered. “You are a fucking idiot,” he accused. “Dumb stupid fool man-child,” he added with a sneer. But then, his expression softened. “You are...so dumb, Glorfindel! Why would I have brought it up to you in the first place? I was...I was flirting with you that night.”

“I thought you were just...making small talk. You never reciprocated when I brought you gifts or asked you to dinner or anything,” Glorfindel admitted. “I thought they Avari just...I thought it was taboo or something.”

“You mean when I got you back here? Glorfindel, I thought you were doing that because I saved you that night out in the forest,” said Erestor.

Glorfindel took a step closer and reached out for Erestor’s hand. “Who is the dumb idiot now?”

Erestor slapped Glorfindel’s hand away. “Not I. Customarily, that is the way of my people, Glorfindel. Ten years is spent giving thanks to the family of the hero. You only did it for about a decade. I thought you just knew about my culture and were respecting that.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel sighed. “I guess that makes me double dumb, then.” He hung his head. “Triple dumb for not knowing you well enough to know what you thought was going on. Well, you will be rid of me soon enough.”

Erestor rolled his eyes and brushed his fingertips along Glorfindel’s hand. “I do not think I could possibly stay here now that I know your feelings.”

Glorfindel looked up with hope in his eyes. “You would sail to Valinor with me?”

“I followed you here, dear. I might as well follow you across the sea.”

With a burst of joy, Glorfindel grasped Erestor’s shoulders as he bent down and kissed him. “I can help you pack!” offered Glorfindel, but Erestor shook his head. 

“We need to get you packed first,” Erestor declared as he glanced around. “Come on,” he said as he walked across the room. “You can kiss me again once we have this dresser emptied.”

Later that night, with half the room packed, the dishes stacked in the hallway for whichever maid was unfortunate enough to be on duty that evening, and the bed cleared off, Glorfindel flopped onto the mattress. “Thank the Valar we have ten more days before we have to sail. We should call for someone to bring us supper.”

Erestor went to the door and pulled on a cord which would alert the staff in the kitchen that one of their revered lords was in need of something. Then he, too, joined Glorfindel on the bed. “Only ten days,” he mused as he tested the give of the mattress with his hand.

“We managed to get a lot done today. Tomorrow, we should work on your things,” suggested Glorfindel.

“There is only one thing I want to take with me to Valinor,” said Erestor.

Glorfindel turned his head to look at Erestor. “What is that?”

Erestor tiredly lifted his arm and booped Glorfindel’s nose with his finger. A knock came at the door. Glorfindel smiled and kissed the tip of Erestor’s finger before he called out, “Come in! The door is unlocked!”

The maid who entered seemed to be someone who had been up to make frequent deliveries to Glorfindel’s room, for she both seemed impressed at the current state of the space and also asked after her curtsey, “Would you like your usual?”

“Times two,” said Glorfindel, but he almost immediately sprang up and called her back. “Sorry; I should not have rushed and expected you would eat the same things I do. Please forgive me,” he said to Erestor.

Erestor sat up and stretched his legs out and his arms up. “What exactly is his ‘usual’?”

The maid ticked off the items on her fingers. “A bottle of red wine, one glass, a bowl of red or black grapes, a plate of raw carrots and celery, toasted bread, avocado spread, seasonal fruit in small chunks, and whatever chocolate dessert is available.”

With a yawn, Erestor nodded. “That sounds fine.”

After the maid left, Glorfindel tapped the coverlet. “We could have asked for something else with that. I know you are not a vegetarian like I am.”

Erestor rubbed one of his arms. Now that he had stopped moving things around and cleaning, he was beginning to feel cold. “If you and I--” Erestor stopped to consider his words. “How much did you read of the books that were written about my people when I first got here?”

“Very little--it felt too much like you were on display for others,” admitted Glorfindel. “I assumed you told me the things you wanted me to know--and as you said, you are Erestor. You have your own thoughts and feelings.”

“Hmm.” 

“Hmm?”

Erestor glanced at Glorfindel, and then, he pounced on him, pinning Glorfindel on the bed. Glorfindel chuckled at the playfulness his friend who was soon turning lover exhibited. “In my culture, the Avarin culture, when two people marry, the person who is joining the new household adopts whatever customs are in that home. I have no family in Valinor; I assume we will live with your family. You do not eat meat; do they?”

“You want to marry me?”

Erestor blinked. “Well...I would expect it to lead there,” he said in his practical tone. “Are you telling me you would not want that?”

“I do,” Glorfindel said, still at Erestor’s mercy on the bed. “It is just...well...the Noldor do not marry if they are both of the same gender as we are.”

Erestor frowned. “That is...dumb,” he said.

“You must forgive me, Erestor--last night, I was in this bed, crying myself to sleep as I considered trying to stay behind with you even though I knew I could not, and now...now things are more than I could have wished for,” said Glorfindel. 

“Well, my people marry,” stated Erestor. “And we respect the needs of our mates. If you do not eat meat, then I do not.”

Glorfindel pulled his hands free in order to take hold of Erestor’s face so that he could pull him down to kiss him. “I love you,” declared Glorfindel with complete sincerity. 

Erestor smiled. “Then we should marry. Before we leave,” he added.

Glorfindel’s eyes widened. “How...how would we do that?”

“There was talk of too much food being left behind to spoil, and everyone working so hard and being stressed--this will be good for everyone. Mostly us,” recognized Erestor. “In my culture, when the intention is declared, the marriage is expected to happen within one cycle of the moon. We only have ten days.”

Erestor’s ability to plan events on a strict budget in a short span of time was put to the test when one week later, he and Glorfindel made vows to one another under the stars. It was followed by a party that lasted all night and into the morning, and included an immensely impressive buffet for breakfast. Elrohir searched from one end to the other for something before he came to the tired but happy couple who were sharing their first breakfast as husbands in the gazebo. “Why is there no bacon?” asked Elrohir with dismay. 

Erestor had been a known bacon fiend at one time. According to him, bacon went with everything, including bacon.

“No one really needs bacon,” remarked Erestor.

Elrohir frowned. “Who are you, and what did you do with our chief counselor?”

“Try some of the roasted pine nut hummus,” Erestor suggested. He seemed quite content with the selections he and Glorfindel had chosen for the breakfast. 

And why not? Erestor, it turned out, was a vegetarian. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
